


Nagoya: December 2017

by Eliza



Series: The (15) Kisses Album [11]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: “There’s nothing wrong with providing a little bit of help.”
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: The (15) Kisses Album [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727986
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Nagoya: December 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Help
> 
> See series for notes

“Fucking katsudon,” Yuri muttered as he tugged at the zipper on his costume. 

“What did Yuuri do this time?” Otabek said from the bedroom doorway.

Yuri startled. They were sharing a suite with Victor and Yuuri again—for the last time, Yuri vowed—so he hadn’t heard Otabek return to the hotel room from his round of Grand Prix interviews. He shifted so he could see Otabek in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe like a goddamn model, looking far too put together for an afternoon when Yuri couldn’t get his pants on. 

“No, I mean actual katsudon,” Yuri said, tugging at his costume before trying the zipper again. “I ate too much of it in Hasetsu.” With a month between the NHK trophy in Osaka and the final in Nagoya, the Katsukis would have been insulted if he hadn’t spent some time there. He thought with still putting in practice time at the Ice Castle and dragging Otabek to all the sites, he wouldn’t have to worry about enjoying the food.

“You’re also still growing, you know.” The smile in Otabek’s voice brought Yuri’s attention back to his reflection. As soon as their eyes met, Otabek’s gaze softened and wandered lower. “And those pants were very...snug in Osaka.” 

Yuri looked over his shoulder, torn between wanting to glare directly at Otabek and not wanting to discourage such blatant admiration. “Are you using my ass as an excuse for your bronze?” 

Otabek lifted his gaze to meet Yuri’s, holding long enough to kick up Yuri’s heart rate, then he huffed a breath of a laugh as he pushed himself away from the door and sauntered into the room. “I make no excuses. I did my best and Phichit did better.”

“That’s what you get for helping him pick his music,” Yuri said, turning back to his reflection and to the reflection of Otabek approaching his back. He hated it when people came up behind him, but as soon as he knew it was Otabek, the sharp apprehension would morph to a softer tension, a balance of safety and arousal. Whichever feeling eventually tipped the scale usually depended on Otabek. But not always.

“I made some suggestions, that’s all,” Otabek said, his voice low and smooth, his breath warm on the shell of Yuri’s ear, his fingertips resting lightly on the outside of Yuri’s thighs. “There’s nothing wrong with providing a little bit of help. Would you like some?”

Yuri shrugged, moving his arm out of the way so Otabek could get at the zipper currently not closing the left side seam. The body of the costume was supposed to be clinging. There were slashes and swirls cut out of the fabric and inset with mesh in the same dark blue so that his skin underneath lightened the areas, providing a monochrome contrast to create the pattern. The body of the costume was sleeveless, with another fastening on the left shoulder so he could step into it. His arms and shoulders were usually covered by a _ridiculous_ bolero jacket which Yuri was always tempted to rip off halfway through the free skate.

“That explains it,” Otabek muttered under his breath, then tugged the zipper in the wrong direction. 

“Up!” Yuri said, surprising himself in the process. When had he ever complained about Otabek getting him out of his clothes? 

Otabek looked up, surprised as well, and Yuri could feel his cheeks heat. Goddamnit, he was blushing now?! Otabek’s lips parted for just a moment, his eyes lighting with something not quite laughter, then he dropped his gaze and focused on providing the help he’d offered. He kept his fingers behind the zipper as he pulled it up, sliding them along the skin of Yuri’s hip, making Yuri take a hissed-in breath as the backs of Otabek’s nails dragged along his side. It wasn’t until the zipper was fully closed that Yuri realized it had moved smoothly through the whole process and he didn’t feel the extra cinching he had when trying to do it up himself.

“It had caught a bunch of the fabric,” Otabek said, resolving Yuri’s confusion. “Why are you putting this on now?”

“There’s going to be a new one for the second half of the season.” It fit today—just—but it might not by March. Adjustments mid-season weren’t unheard of. “They actually asked for my opinion on the changes. Since I can’t scrap the whole concept, it’s easier to see what I’d like done when actually looking at it.” Otabek was running his fingers along the mesh insets, the heat of his touch searing Yuri’s skin as he lazily traced the patterns. “And I thought you were going to be gone for the whole afternoon.” 

Otabek grinned at him in the mirror and then threaded his fingers in the hair at the base of Yuri’s skull. Yuri was regularly tempted to cut it until Otabek put his hands in it, petting or pulling, or like today, just lifting it aside so he could put his lips on Yuri’s skin. Even knowing what was coming, the heat of Otabek’s mouth on the nape of his neck still affected him like a punch to the gut, leaving Yuri breathless, panting, and starting to ache. 

“I like this costume,” Otabek said, letting Yuri feel his teeth. 

“It’s ridiculous. I don’t know how I got talked into it.” 

“I think it had something to do with the fact that when you walked out in it, I got instantly hard.” Otabek took a small step closer, just close enough to let Yuri know that was still the case.

“I was much more impressionable then.” 

Otabek hummed against Yuri’s skin as he popped open the shoulder fastening, baring the left side of Yuri’s chest to the nipple and back to the shoulder blade. Yuri just watched him in the mirror as he took apart the costume, started taking apart Yuri. Otabek dragged his mouth to Yuri’s shoulder. Slowly. He let Yuri feel teeth again on the way back, the tease of marks which wouldn’t be placed there. Not today. Although the one Otabek lingered on at the curve of Yuri’s trap might leave a faint shadow. Fuck, Yuri loved this. It was like all the nerves along the base of his neck were on a higher voltage, quickening his heart, his breath, his cock. He couldn’t remember the last time Otabek had done this while they were standing, then Yuri realized he was in bare feet and Otabek still had his boots on, making them of a height again. He probably wasn’t going to get another chance like this, and his phone was within reach, so Yuri took the picture. 

“Yuri.” Otabek sounded hurt. He didn’t really pull away, but he did straighten, and Yuri could feel the tension in the body behind him as well as see the slight frown on Otabek’s face in the mirror. It couldn’t have been that Yuri didn’t warn him, most of the pictures of them together were candids. Yuri really didn’t understand. 

“You were just kissing me. I have other pictures of you kissing me.” 

“Those other pictures were taken by other people, taken when we knew we could be seen. This is...not that.”

He opened up the one he just took, hoping Otabek would see what he saw when he looked at pictures of them together. Okay, that was hotter than he expected it to be. Maybe it was different because neither of them were holding anything back. There was a possessiveness in the way Otabek spread his fingers over Yuri’s body. His lips were red and shiny, and just brushed the pink mark on Yuri’s skin. And Yuri...yeah, nobody needed to see that. Obviously Yuri couldn’t argue the point, but he showed the picture to Otabek anyway. “Should I delete it?” 

The longer it took Otabek to answer, the more Yuri relaxed. Eventually, Otabek nuzzled into Yuri’s hair. “No. Don’t delete it,” he said before setting his lips behind Yuri’s ear. 

“Can I take another one?” If he was paying more attention to taking the picture, he likely wouldn’t end up looking so freshly fucked. Or maybe just a shot of Otabek’s hands. 

“Not today,” Otabek said, sounding more amused than exasperated. Still, he pulled the phone out of Yuri’s hand and tossed it onto the bed to make his point.

Yuri leaned back hard against Otabek’s chest, tipping his head onto Otabek’s shoulder, an encouragement, an offering. He was determined to find some way to capture these moments, share these feelings, but there were other ways to do that. The pictures could wait.


End file.
